Here’s something I probably shouldn’t talk about in public but am going to anyway:*

I had a weird sex dream.

Now, in my defense, at least the guy in the dream is someone I’ve messed around with. So that’s not weird, right? Not like when I have sex dreams about co-workers or platonic friends and then can’t look them in the eye the next day because I keep picturing them fake naked.**

Okay, so where it gets weird is that in my sex dream, my friend was working as a prostitute. Other things that make this dream weird include:

  • He seemed to have a sort of portfolio/booklet of “promotional” (see: dirty) photos of himself wearing bizarre leather-looking outfits.
  • In one such photo, he was wearing a corset and skirt a la Rocky Horror (which we should all know by now is a fascination of  mine…***)
  • I WASN’T PAYING.

Yeah, I wasn’t paying, but he was a prostitute, so what the hell? Who does it dream reflect more poorly on? Me for dream fucking a prostitute, or my friend for dream being a prostitute?

SIDENOTE: I feel like it’s so very Canadian of me to worry most about the fact that I wasn’t paying for the service. Because that was unfair of me.

And what does it mean in real life?**** (Seriously, give me your opinions.)

And why is this in my blog?

Because it’s one of the many, many, many occasions I’ve learned that the subconscious can not only do crazy things, but also really affect how you feel when you wake up. Because I’m totally judging myself now.

(Just kidding.)

(But seriously, a little bit.)

(And also, I kind of want to mess around with the guy again.)

(Oops.)

xA

*But like my friend Erin says, “it’s okay if she writes about you because she never uses names or changes them or whatever.” (That’s her real name.)

**Fake because I don’t know what they actually look like naked, obvs.

***Okay, so that’s not actually that weird, because some guys can just pull off a corset like nobody’s business, all right?!

****My friend Erin said it means I’m desperate (love you, girl!). Everyone at the Christmas party I went to last night just looked at me and were more concerned about (a) me telling this story, and (b) the booklet or “promotional” photos.

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